A Fair Trade
by Hawkeing
Summary: The Inquisitor has a problem, and she needs Dorian to fix it. The trouble is getting him to agree. Hijinks will ensue.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi, everyone! Just a quick disclaimer; if you're looking for a Dorian/femInquisitor romance, this probably isn't the story for you. I love the flirty friendship between Dorian and the Inquisitor, so I tried to stay true to that dynamic. Hopefully, most of you feel the same!

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"Dorian!" Inquisitor Trevelyan burst into the library so quickly she almost ran over the mage in question. "Dorian, I need your help!"

Dorian replaced his book on the bookshelf. "Dragons ravaging the ramparts, Inquisitor?"

"No. Worse."

Dorian's eyebrows knitted together. "Worse than dragons? Corypheus?"

" _Worse_."

Dorian took the woman by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Lynne, you're making me nervous. I have yet to think of anything worse than an ancient Magister-turned-Darkspawn who habitually rips holes into time and space in order to elevate himself to godhood, then rides away on a pet archdemon that could, potentially, start another Blight."

"When you put it that way, maybe this isn't _quite_ that bad. But it's still pretty terrifying."

Dorian crossed his arms. "Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"You know how I _would_ have been nobility if my parents didn't ship me off to a Circle, right?"

"A travesty, yes."

"Well, Josephine decided to reach out to my family for support-"

Dorian uncrossed his arms. "Maker, she didn't."

"Oh, she did."

"But you haven't seen them since you were a child!"

"And, truth be told, I didn't want to after they betrayed me like that."

"Understandable. But what do Josephine's negotiations have to do with me?"

Normally, Lynne would have loved the confused look on her arrogant friend's face, but right now her stomach felt too twisted up to properly revel in it. She took a deep breath. "Dorian, we're friends, right?"

"Right," he responded cautiously.

"My parents are on their way here for negotiations. Leliana believes the cost of their help will be a marriage. _My_ marriage, specifically."

Dorian frowned and his eyes flashed dangerously. Good, so far he was on board.

"Leliana says my parents have their sights set on Fergus Cousland."

"The Queen's brother?"

"Yes." Lynne hung her head. "I've only met him once, and he was… Nice, but so much older than me. It would be like marrying an uncle."

When she looked up, all she saw on Dorian's face was understanding. "A fiery woman like yourself wouldn't do well in an arranged marriage."

"I know." Lynne's stomach uncoiled a little. He got it. Of course he did, after what his father tried to do to him. "But, my parents wouldn't be able to marry me off if I was already involved with someone living at Skyhold with me. There would be too many questions about my… virtue."

"But you're not with anyone."

" _They_ don't know that. All I need to do is make them _think_ I'm with someone. Someone close to me, with believable chemistry, preferably high-born…"

"Wait just a minute! Are you… Are you asking me to _pretend_ I'm you're lover?"

"Well, if you have a problem with pretending, we could always work on giving it some authenticity."

"Oh no, no, no. Fake flirting won't get you out of trouble _this_ time!" Dorian paced between the bookshelves the way he only did when extremely agitated.

The silence was deafening.

Lynne's hand tightened over her chest. Disappointing Dorian hurt worse than she expected.

Finally, he spoke. "How could you ask that of me? You know I had to resign myself to exile to get away from the farce my father wanted me to play. Why would you ask me to do the same?" He didn't sound angry, just sad. That hurt even more than silence.

"I'm not asking you to _marry_ me. All I'm asking is that we give my parents a show. You be your usual snarky self, we flirt as usual, perhaps with some subtle physical reinforcement, and they draw their own conclusions."

"A lie of omission, then."

"For my freedom."

Dorian paused, seemingly considering it, then sighed. "But why _me_? Why not our dashing Commander?"

"The blushing, buttoned up schoolboy? He's endearing and all, but he wouldn't last five minutes with a lie like that."

"Ok, I'll give you that one. But what about our roguish, sharp-tongued merchant prince?"

"Varric said no. Something about how he would have to face the wrath of Hawke, whatever that means. I'm pretty sure that was real fear in his eyes, though, so I dropped it."

Dorian raised an eyebrow. "And why did you think I would say otherwise?"

"Because you understand my situation better than anyone, _and_ people already think we're involved."

Dorian didn't quite seem convinced.

Lynne hated to do it, but it was time to pull out her Ace. "Our positive dealings with Tevinter are few, but Josephine does occasionally meet with lesser Magisters to discuss alliances. If you don't help me, she might 'accidentally' recount the time you hit on all of the women at The Singing Maiden using only lines from _Swords and Shields_."

"Tha- You-" Dorian sputtered. "It was a _bet_! And how do you even remember that, after all the drinks you had?"

Lynne shrugged. "It was that funny. As I recall, half the women in the bar swooned over you, until that soldier you, uh, had _relations_ with one night got jealous and started reciting the female protagonist's lines. It was such a spectacle that Varric _still_ won't let you pay for drinks." Lynne paused dramatically before adding, "I imagine such tales wouldn't help your social standing at home, though…"

"You wouldn't."

"Dorian, I'm a southern mage. I spent half my life in a Circle, and now my parents want to auction me off to the highest bidder. If the mage/templar war has taught us anything, it's that people who live in cages for too long do extreme things for freedom."

Dorian sighed. "And now you're playing the sympathy card, fully knowing it's difficult for me to resist. You're a monster, you know that, right?"

"Probably a contributing factor to the 'not currently involved with anyone' predicament."

Dorian smirked. "That and your taste in men."

"Hey, it's not my fault I have a thing for templars who wouldn't recognize flirting even if I sat in their laps and placed their hands on my bosom."

"Darling, I would _pay_ to see Cullen's face if you did that."

Now that was an idea. "How much would you pay, exactly?"

Dorian raised an eyebrow, his eyes suddenly alight. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

The Inquisitor shrugged. "Call it an even trade?"

The Tevinter grinned. "Only if I'm there to witness it."

"Deal."

* * *

To be continued...

Please review!

Your feedback, long or short, lets me know what I'm doing right, and what I need to improve. Since this is a three or four parter, you can even make suggestions for the upcoming chapters! =)


	2. Chapter 2 Teaser

A/N: Thank you so much for the review, OnyxDrake! Your feedback really means a lot! I'd also like to thank everyone who favorited or followed this story! It's really exciting to know people are enjoying it!

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When Lynne heard a knock at her door, she thought it was just another messenger. Her heart sank when she found Josephine herself waiting in the hall. Her visit could only mean one thing.

"They're here." It was a statement rather than a question. The dreaded yet awaited hour had finally arrived.

The Ambassador absent-mindedly tapped her quill against her clipboard as she answered. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Have you decided on a response to their proposal?"

Lynne raked a hand through her hair, both as a nervous tick, and a conscious check that it was in place before making her way to the stairs. It had been a while since she'd seen them. Not long enough, as far as she was concerned.

Taking in a breath, she passed her advisor and put a hand on her shoulder. "Just get Dorian. We'll handle the rest."

Josephine's expression changed from confusion, to shock, to glee. Mischief tugged at the corners of her mouth and set her eyes alight. "Surely, you don't mean-"

Josephine's excitement must have been contagious, because the Inquisitor felt her own expression mirror the Antivan's. "Oh yes, I do."

"But how did you ever convince him?"

"I'm persuasive, when I need to be." Lynne winked. "Now, let's get this operation underway, shall we?"

Josephine actually giggled.

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Sorry for the short chapter! The next one is longer than Chapter One, so it's taking a little longer to edit. It should be up tomorrow, but I figured I'd give you something to tide you over.

Feedback is a HUGE day-maker for me, so if you enjoy or think I could improve anything, please leave a review!

Happy fourth of July, everyone!


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Here it is, you guys! I want to thank OnyxDrake and dekicobee for the reviews on my last chapter, as well as all of the new people following this story! You guys made me really excited to get the new chapter up!

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Josephine's door had never looked so foreboding. The Inquisitor stood alone outside it, examining the way the grain resembled a pair of angry eyes. Solas would probably tell her it was her state of mind, she thought with a smile.

What was she so afraid of, anyway? She was the _Inquisitor_ , damn it! When she wasn't sealing rifts and killing demons, she was fighting Venatori and Red Templars, or slaying dragons. Surely, she could handle a few parasitic politicians who wanted to call themselves her parents.

Her hand balled into a fist until her nails bit into her palm. Somehow, the pain strengthened her resolve, possibly an association formed by months of fighting in the field. Physical pain was something she could handle; it meant there was something she could actually fight.

With a deep breath, she pushed through the door.

Her parents sat in the pink armchairs by the fire. They seemed older than she remembered; grey hair peppered her father's dark brown hair, and crow's feet accented the corners of her mother's eyes. Her mother was the first to notice her.

"Evelyn!"

Lynne winced. She really hated that name.

When her mother stood and crossed the room to hug her, it took every ounce of diplomacy and self-control Lynne possessed to smile instead of pushing the woman away.

"Mother," she acknowledged curtly. "Father," she nodded to the man in the armchair.

"Oh, my little girl." Her mother drew back to appraise her. The words sounded right, but there was no love in her eyes, making the phrase ring hollow in Lynne's ears. "You've grown so much."

"Yes, well, ten years will do that to teenagers." Oops, she hadn't meant to throw that barb; it was just automatic to say what she thought now. She must have spent too much time around Dorian and Sera.

Her mother winced, and her father rose in protest. "Don't be a child, Evelyn. You know your mother and I had no choice but to give you to the Circle. It wasn't an ideal situation for us either."

"Only because you lost the option of marrying me off to some trumped up-"

Someone cleared their throat behind her. Lynne spun around to find Josephine poking her head through the door, thank the Maker. But where was Dorian?

"Lord and Lady Trevelyan, might I introduce Sister Nightingale, Left Hand of the Divine, and Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisition's forces." Josephine held the door open for Leliana and Cullen, who each bowed briefly upon entry.

The Trevelyans inclined their heads as well.

That brilliant woman. Josephine knew just what to do in _any_ situation.

"A pleasure," Lynne's mother responded mechanically.

Leliana's eyes were guarded, even though her smile seemed easy. When her gaze flicked to the Inquisitor, it was encouraging, just for that moment, and then slipped back into the mask as she addressed the Trevelyan's. "The pleasure is all ours."

The last time the Inquisitor heard Leliana use that extra-sweet voice on someone, they mysteriously died the next day.

 _That_ brought a smile to her face, at least.

Cullen's gaze stayed trained on Lynne's parents, and his hand rested on the hilt of his sword as it usually did when he sensed danger.

How much did her advisors hear, exactly?

"Pleasure though it is, to what do we owe this visit?"

Lord Trevelyan stepped forward. Without even a glance at his daughter, he addressed the others in the room. "You are Evelyn's advisors, are you not?"

"We are."

"You seem a reasonable lot. We thought we might come to some sort of agreement. Our daughter can use her newfound status to secure mutual allies for us. In exchange, the Inquisition will receive the full support of the Trevelyans and all of our allies."

"We have a few potential suiters she should meet," her mother clarified. "One in particular."

There it was. That focus on business the Inquisitor remembered. Always scrambling for a way to surpass their competitors and elevate their status, even (or especially) at the expense of their own daughter.

Josephine and Leliana remained unfazed. Thanks to Leliana's spies and Josephine's ability to read between the lines in correspondence, they knew this was coming. Cullen, however, shot Lynne a visibly staggered look. It seemed the others forgot to fill him in.

Lynne's heart skipped a beat. She'd never seen Cullen look like that, and this was over concern for her.

Cullen's hand tightened around the pommel of his sword. "Pardon my boldness in speaking so candidly, but she is the _Inquisitor_. You can't honestly believe marriage is the only way she can secure alliances."

"Perhaps not the only way," her father consented with a shrug. "But certainly the longest lasting and most secure."

Cullen shifted himself ever so slightly to the left, just enough to act as a barrier between the Inquisitor and her parents. "But she has so little freedom as it is."

Something in Lynne felt like it opened up at that moment. Cullen, reserved military man, Commander, _templar_ , was standing up to a family of nobles for the freedom of a mage. Her freedom. How could she ever have doubted his loyalty? But at this rate, he would face her parents' wrath.

The Commander turned to the other advisors for support. "Don't you have anything to say? I can't believe you'd even _consider_ -"

Lynne placed a hand on his arm and shook her head.

Cullen's jaw worked a little, as though he wanted to say something else, but his shoulders slumped and he fell silent.

Lynne stepped in front of him. "Mother, father, I think I can speak for myself."

Her father gave her a withering look that she hadn't seen since she was thirteen. "It seems you've been trouncing around the countryside like some common mercenary for too long. You're a Trevelyan. It's time you started acting like a proper woman of your station and deferred to the wisdom of your parents."

" _Wisdom_?" Lynne choked on the word. She was so angry, she actually shook.

Josephine cleared her throat again. "Lord and Lady Trevelyan, we will consider your proposal, but I'm afraid we must first confer with the Inquisitor's attaché."

"Attaché?" Cullen asked incredulously.

"That would be me."

At that moment, the door swung open, revealing Dorian, perfectly groomed and dressed in even more flashy silks and velvets than usual, embroidered with a very obvious dragon that stretched across the entire left side of his robe. He carried a bigger staff than usual, as well; flashier, but lower quality. Luckily, Lynne's parents were neither mages nor templars, so they would never be able to tell the difference.

The room fell absolutely silent as Dorian sauntered up to Lynne and slipped his arm around her waist. He must have felt her shaking, because he spared her a very concerned look. "Are you alright, darling?"

Lynne nodded, so happy to see him that she had to blink back tears. Thank the Maker for her friends.

Dorian frowned and pulled her closer.

Lynne's mother pursed her lips, and her father kept looking back and forth between the pair.

Lynne remembered that Dorian supposedly didn't know what they were talking about. It was time for her line. "They want me to agree to an arranged marriage."

"An arranged marriage?!" Dorian did a fantastic job of feigning shock. "I'm afraid Lynne is no longer eligible for such an arrangement. I won't agree to it."

"And who are you, that you could deny our rights as her parents?"

"Me?" Dorian laughed. "I'm Dorian of House Pavus, Altus of Tevinter, son of Halward Pavus of the Magisterium."

For the first time in Lynne's memory, doubt flashed through her father's eyes. "Tevinter? You're a Tevinter magister?"

"Close enough."

Lord and Lady Trevelyan exchanged a fearful look, and the Inquisitor felt a smile break out on her face. She'd spent years imagining all the possible ways a reunion with her parents could go, but this was better by far.

"They met when the Inquisitor traveled to Redcliffe to ally with the mages," Josephine explained. "Dorian was essential in securing the alliance."

"And they've been inseparable ever since," Leliana added with a wide, real grin.

The best part of the whole thing was that even though every word was true, it still achieved the desired effect. Lynne turned to look at Cullen, eager to see him smiling for once, but then noticed his creased brow and crossed arms. That was the stance he usually took at the war table when presented with unpleasant surprises. Wait, did he really think…?

"As you can see, your daughter is doing a fine job of 'securing alliances' on her own," he defiantly explained to her parents. Though there was no malice in the statement, confusion still clouded Cullen's eyes when he looked back at the pair.

"After all, how many families in the Free Marches can boast an alliance with Tevinter?" Josephine hid her mouth behind her clipboard as the Trevelyans looked at each other, then back to Dorian and the Inquisitor.

"Fabulous, are we not?" Dorian asked Lynne's parents, and Lynne almost lost it.

After a long silence, her father bowed, ever so slightly. "Lord Pavus, we would be honored to accept the friendship of your house. We apologize if we've caused any offense by suggesting otherwise."

Maker, this was too good to be true.

Dorian held a hand up in dismissal. "None taken, my good man. Just so long as there's no more talk about pairing my dear Lynne with some backwater southern barbarian."

Lynne had to fight a giggle when her father's jaw visibly clenched at the indirect insult. "You have our word."

The Inquisitor's mother met her gaze. "We're sorry for doubting your judgement, honey. Clearly, you have everything under control."

"Damn right, I do," she growled, and led Dorian by the arm back to the main hall, leaving her advisors to deal with the rest.

As soon as the door shut, Lynne hurled herself at Dorian for a huge hug, but miscalculated and brought both of them to the ground. She didn't even care.

He looked up at her in surprise.

"Dorian, I can't believe how well that worked! You must be a _god_!"

"It's about time you realized as much."

They managed to keep straight faces for about two seconds, before bursting into the kind of relieved laughter that brought tears to their eyes and stole the air from their lungs. Lynne rolled off the mage and lay next to him on the floor as she tried unsuccessfully to regain her composure. Dismayed soldiers, servants, and guests passed the pair, but it didn't matter. It worked! It worked, and for the first time, Lynne was free to make her own decisions without having to worry about her parents or the Circle.

All thanks to her _amazing_ friends.

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Well, that's it for Chapter 2! This story still has a few parts left, so stay tuned!

And as always, please review! I really want to hear what everyone thinks!


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: So before I get started with this chapter, I want to give a HUGE shout-out to Marvel'sWhovian for beta reading for me.

6 of you left me 7 reviews that made me SUPER excited to get this chapter up. Thank you OnyxDrake, LadyDragon1316, dekicobee, DemonKingAura, Guest, and Tharosis2442!

And thanks to everyone following the story so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter (the longest one yet)!

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"Seriously, I can't believe that worked," Varric said over his third beer. Noticing that Dorian and the Inquisitor were both out, he signaled to Cabot for another round.

"I can," Bull said, looking at Dorian. "Him playing some trumped-up vint? Not a stretch."

"Lots've Tevinter, this one." Sera tugged at Dorian's intentionally ostentatious robe, only to have him swat her hand away. "Fancy pants."

Ignoring Sera, Dorian addressed Iron Bull. "Like you playing some mindless brute?"

"I call 'em like I see 'em. And a ben hassarath sees _everything_."

"Careful, Tiny. Nightengale might take that as a challenge."

"Bring it."

This conversation was taking a turn for the disastrous. As Cabot brought them their new beers, Lynne tried to steer the subject away from a potential spy-off. "Varric, you should have _seen_ the looks on their faces! I've never seen mother at a loss for words, and father actually _apologized_. It was _amazing_!"

"Ppht," Sera tried to hold in a laugh, but still wound up cackling a little. "Stuck up arse apologizing. And here you are, just people, right? Puts him down where he belongs. All humble-like. Sounds like fun!"

"Indeed," Dorian rose his glass. "To 'putting stuck up arses where they belong.'"

The whole party drained their glasses. Sera let out a belch that rumbled the floor and silenced half the tavern.

"Bull!" Krem yelled from the other side of the bar. "What have I told you about intimidating drunk soldiers?"

Bull growled, but Sera just laughed in response.

The Inquisitor snorted some of her drink out her nose, choking at the fizzy sensation in places it didn't belong.

"It's alright, Inquisitor, let it out," Varric patted her on the back and handed her a handkerchief from his pocket. Blowing her nose didn't make things much better, but it helped.

Bull took another drink and grimaced. "Weak," he groaned. "This is a celebration! We need something better than this piss water!"

Varric seemed legitimately offended. "Well, what would you suggest, Tiny?"

Bull's lips curled into a truly terrifying smile. "Don't you worry about it. Next round is on me." With that, he signaled Cabot to meet him at the other end of the bar, and therefore, out of earshot.

"Varric, what have you gotten us into?"

"I was just wondering that myself."

Dorian laughed. "What could you two _possibly_ be concerned about? We've slain a dragon, and you're cowering in your boots over a glass of liquid? You should be ashamed."

"After that poison Bull had me drink to celebrate slaying said dragon? I'm not scared; I'm terrified."

"Ever drink with a qunari, Sparkler?"

Dorian wrinkled his nose. "In case you've forgotten, my diminutive friend, qunari and the people of my homeland don't exactly get along."

"Exactly. You don't know a thing about their drinking habits. So, let's talk this through." Varric spoke slowly, as though talking to a child. "You're usually the first to point out how large and brutish they're built. Now, take a moment to think about what kind of drink it would take to get someone like that drunk."

Dorian's eyes widened. "Oh, sweet Maker."

Varric patted him on the arm. "Now you understand."

Quietly, almost discreetly, Sera slid off her chair. "Good luck with that, yeah?" Before the others could respond, she dashed up the stairs and out of sight. She had probably taken refuge in her room. Damn rogue.

Varric, Dorian, and the Inquisitor all looked at each other.

"Is it too late to follow suit?" Dorian asked.

"And keep our dignity?" Varric watched Cabot pass Iron Bull five tankards of mystery alcohol. "Afraid so."

When Iron Bull began making his way back to them, the sense of impending doom became almost palpable. "Any last requests, Varric?"

"Inquisitor, if I die, I want you to take care of Bianca for me. Unless you die."

"I don't intend to. Dorian?"

"I want a golden statue erected in my honor on the battlements."

"Of course you do. I'll be sure to include the bucket you died over."

"Don't you dare. All the best legends were born from excluding key facts."

"Now here's a real drink!" Iron Bull slammed their drinks in front of them, making the dark liquid slosh and foam. It looked like something Lynne had seen in a Circle cauldron once. "Where's Sera?"

"Gone," Lynne groaned.

"Well, more for me," Bull shrugged. "Drink up, boys (and Dorian, of course)!"

Dorian nudged the Inquisitor with his elbow. "See, Bull knows I'm no boy. I'm a _god_."

Lynne giggled.

"That would have come off a lot more cocky if you weren't staring at your drink like it was about to grow teeth and bite your nose off," Varric teased with a laugh.

"Varric, after all the things we've seen, do you sincerely doubt it could?"

"Point." The dwarf shrugged. "But in the end, a free drink is a free drink."

"Here here!" Iron Bull bellowed, raising his glass. "To freedom!"

The others looked at each other before hesitantly followed suit.

"To a well-enacted plan," Varric winked.

"And the dashing young man who played his part perfectly," Dorian added.

"To free drinks" the Inquisitor said loudly, then muttered, "However ominous they may be."

The four companions pounded their pints to the counter and drank deeply.

Maker, it burned like Andraste's pyre all the way down, but Lynne couldn't let herself stop; this was a challenge of her toughness.

Dorian sputtered next to her, but it only strengthened her resolve. She finished her drink and slid it away in disgust. The acidic, hoppy flavor lingered.

"Well?" Bull asked as the Inquisitor wiped her mouth on her sleeve, hoping against hope to get the taste off her lips.

"That was-"

"Say, isn't that Curly?"

The company turned and stared in a very indiscrete manner. The room seemed to tilt a little with the swift head movement, so the Inquisitor grasped the counter to steady herself.

There, wedged up against the wall of a corner stall, was the Commander. While he still wore his usual breeches and furry maroon coat, he lacked any armor. It struck Lynne that this was the first time she saw him in anything less than full breast plate. However, if he was trying to avoid notice, he was doing a very poor job of it; soldiers, scouts, and civilians alike cast furtive glances at him as he contemplated whatever was in his tankard. The only person who dared approach him was Scout Harding, but he sent her away with a few words none of them could quite make out.

Harding sat down with Krem and some of the Chargers for a round of Diamondback, but kept glancing back at the Commander as though concerned.

"I've never seen him here before." Iron Bull thumped a finger on the counter as he thought. "And I'm here a _lot_."

"Wait, you don't live here?" the Inquisitor asked.

"Boss, I've been a ben hassarath for a while, and I fought vints even longer. If there's one thing you learn, it's that being predictable is _death_."

"Being predictable is… But you're here _all the ti_ -"

"Confused, foggy, insides twisting, but Maker, why does it hurt?"

The Inquisitor was on her feet with a ball of electricity in hand before she realized the voice in her ear had been Cole. She staggered a little as she found her way back to her seat. Varric set Bianca down to help steady her. She found it a little comforting that the dwarf was as quick on the draw as she was.

"Kid, you should really be careful who you do that appearing from thin air trick to. You might actually get hurt… Or give someone a heart attack."

"Bit of a toss-up with us, really."

Cole's eyes widened. "But I'm not scary. I want to help."

Varric sighed. "You're missing the point. You know what, tomorrow, we'll talk about it."

"What were you saying earlier, Cole? About hurting?" A crazy idea occurred to the Inquisitor as she glanced at Cullen, who quickly looked away and took a long swig of his drink. "Who's thoughts were those?"

"Cullen's, of course."

Lynne's stomach did a summersault. He couldn't possibly be bothered by the stunt she and Dorian pulled, right?

"What's wrong, Boss? Did something happen?"

"I don't… I don't _think_ so."

Varric and Dorian exchanged a glance and cracked identical grins.

"Interesting…" Varric fingered the coat pocket he kept his pen in, and the Inquisitor suddenly felt _very_ bad for Cullen.

"That poor, stupid man," Dorian said, shaking his head.

"You should go to him." It took Lynne a moment to realize Cole had meant her.

"Me?" she squeaked, and Iron Bull gave her a look. "Why me? Aren't you the one who helps people?"

Cole shook his head. "I think you're better than me for _this_ hurt."

Lynne's heart seemed to skip a beat. Her? Was this actually about her? It couldn't be. Cullen never responded to her advances, other than the occasional adorable blustering when her flirting became too bold. And she was a _mage_. She may not know much about the Commander's life before the Inquisition, but rumors about the ex-templar's past circulated Skyhold. It seemed everyone knew different versions of the story, but none of them painted a pretty picture when it came to his relations with mages.

Still, Dorian, Varric, and Cole all watched Lynne expectantly, and some sort of understanding seemed to spark in Bull's eyes.

"You heard him, Boss. It's up to you." Bull suddenly shoved the Inquisitor off her seat, forcing her to stumble forward to catch her footing. By the time she recovered, she was halfway toward Cullen's booth, and when she met his surprised gaze, she knew there was no turning back. It took far more focus than she ever wanted to admit not to stumble her way to the table, but the empty mugs already there suggested that Cullen may be a bit too tipsy to notice anyway.

"Inquisitor." Cullen stood and bowed as she ungracefully plopped onto the seat in front of him.

The decorum, while not unexpected, still hurt a little. "Cullen, we're getting drunk in a tavern. I think we can drop the formalities for now."

Cullen sat and sighed. "You may be right about that. What should I call you, then? Lady Trevelyan?"

The Inquisitor winced. "Cullen, have you met my mother? Because that's the only person I know who goes by that name."

The Commander rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry. My lady?"

"No! Maker's sake, you're my friend, not my subordinate."

"Actually, I do work for you."

Ouch. Was that all she was to him? His boss? The Inquisitor? Herald of Andraste? Lady Trevelyan? They were all pretty titles, to be sure, but Lynne hated that fame and power could wall her off from the people she cared about. The people who, truth be told, she wanted to care about her. The grain of the wood suddenly became the center of her focus as she asked herself why she wanted him to see her as a person, without any titles in the way.

"Did I… Did I say something that upset you?"

"No! I just… I would really appreciate it if you called me Lynne. Just this once." She wanted him to address her as an equal. She couldn't justify why; she just _needed_ it.

Cullen hesitated, and Lynne had to look up. He seemed to contemplate it before finally, slowly saying, "If that's what you wish… Lynne."

A thrill ran up and down her spine at the simple word, making her shiver.

"You're cold?" Without waiting for a response, Cullen untied his cloak and leaned across the table to throw it around Lynne's shoulders. He was so close, she could smell the sour beer on his breath, and she was sure she could smell the… whatever Bull had her drink… on hers. His eyes were filled with concern, and, Maker, it _did_ things to her. "If you need a walk back to your quarters…"

"No!"

Cullen's forehead wrinkled, and Lynne realized her mistake instantly. "I mean, no, thank you. Bull's last round did a number on all of us, but as you can see, I'm still perfectly functional." She stood to illustrate her point, but slammed the tops of her legs on the table. "Ooooow,,," She sank back into her chair.

"Perfectly so," Cullen commented with that damn half smile that tugged at the scar on his lip in _just_ the right way.

"Shut. Up."

He did. The Inquisitor rubbed her thighs until the pain (and some of the humiliation) passed.

When she looked back up to the Commander, the concern was back in his gaze. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Cullen, after everything I've survived, do you really think a little klutziness will kill me?"

"No, but Bull's drinking habits might…" Cullen cast an accusing glare back to her companions, who immediately tried to look like they hadn't been watching intently the whole time. Sera had apparently come back, and Cole kept muttering things to an increasingly smug looking Dorian. Great. "Dangers aside, perhaps you should get back to your friends. They seem to miss you."

"Sod them, they're jerks."

"What about Dorian?"

The mage wriggled an eyebrow at Lynne from across the room.

" _Especially_ him."

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck again. "Did you, uh, did the two of you have a fight?"

Lynne waved the notion off. "Of course not. We-" We. Wait just a minute, was that _actually_ the problem? "Cullen… You know Dorian and I aren't actually together, right?"

"You're… You're not? "

On the other side of the room, Cole said something and the rest of her companions started laughing. Fantastic.

"It was just a show for my parents. Dorian's one of my best friends, but we're not exactly, uh, _compatible_ that way."

"I like _men_ , you oaf!" Dorian shouted from the bar, and Sera's fit of laughter brought her to the floor.

Cullen flushed a fascinating shade of crimson. "I don't… I'm not sure what you're implying," he called back.

"Of course you aren't," Varric replied. "That wouldn't be nearly as good of a story!"

Aghast, Cullen raked his fingers through his hair and tried to come up with a response. Lynne couldn't help the thought that he looked _adorable_ this flustered. Even so…

"Well," she used the table to stand as smoothly as possible, "I think I've accidentally drawn enough attention to you for one night."

Was it her imagination, or did he look disappointed?

No, she was reading far too much into things. She was a mage, and he a templar. If she had learned anything from her ill-advised crush on one of the templars from her old Circle, it was that certain lines could never be crossed.

She needed to get away before she got her hopes up any further.

In her rush, she stumbled a little while passing Cullen, and, at that exact moment, Cullen reached out to pull her back. Balance gone, and tipsy templar strength adding momentum and direction to her fall, Lynne soon found herself sitting on the _very_ unsettled man's lap.

"I, uh, I'm so- I didn't mean to- I shouldn't have-" As Cullen tried to find his words, Lynne looked helplessly at Dorian, who's grin would've cracked his face if it had been any wider. With a crude, squeezing hand gesture, Dorian mouthed "You owe me."

Maker help her, she did.

Cullen had one hand planted firmly on the table, and the other glued to his seat, like he didn't know what to do with them.

How was this going to work exactly?

Unable to meet his gaze, even though she _really_ wanted to, Lynne focused on how big his hand was compared to hers. She focused on the way his breath caught when she placed her hand on his, and the tingles that ran up her whole arm when he responded by locking fingers.

His strong grip and knuckles made rough by scars led her to wonder what the rest of him might look like; a thought she pushed into the far corners of her mind.

Dammit, Lynne couldn't _not_ look any longer. She turned in Cullen's lap to find herself face-to-face with him. This close up, she could see the stubble from neglected morning rituals, the very slight creases permanently etched in his forehead, and those _eyes_.

Now she understood what Warden Blackwall meant when he said Cullen had the look of a man who had seen too much. Even bewildered like this, his gaze was so deep, calculating, wary. He had clearly been through hell and back, and Lynne doubted he would ever recount the details. Yet… Yet, he had managed to become the kind, strong, strangely innocent man she knew today. What kind of person was he before, that he could be so good even after seeing the worst?

They were so close, their noses almost touched. She wanted to lean in so badly. She wanted to find out what his lips felt like against hers, what those muscles felt like with his arms curled around her, whether he would make nearly as passionate of a lover as a fighter. She had this crazy urge to plaster her body against his right then and there until there was nothing between them, and that urge terrified her.

Cullen leaned forward, and Lynne came _so close_ to giving in. But, she pulled back, heart hammering wildly in her chest.

The Commander frowned, confusion clouding his eyes.

Lynne was overreacting. He hadn't been about to kiss her. There was no way. But no amount of rational thought made that urge, that longing, any more bearable. She needed to get away. She needed to end this situation _right now_ , before she did something that damaged their working relationship. But she still needed to pay Dorian back…

Dammit.

Cullen cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably underneath her. "Inquisitor, we should-"

Lynne placed his hand on her boob.

Everything seemed to freeze. Lynne couldn't hear anything but her heart pounding in her throat. She couldn't feel anything but the warmth of his hand. She failed to stifle a moan as he gently, instinctually squeezed, making her arch ever so slightly into his hand.

Cullen's eyebrows jumped up. When his gaze finally lowered to inspect exactly what he had squeezed, his eyes widened and his face flushed a color Lynne had never seen on an actual person before.

The whole tavern broke out in cheers and cat calls. Maryden didn't even have her instrument in hand. Sunderland leaned over the rails, pumped his fist, and yelled "You get'im, Inquisitor!" Even Cabot almost smiled, absent-mindedly rubbing a rag over the already thoroughly dry glass he had just cleaned.

Oops.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry, Cullen!" Lynne pushed off the poor Commander to stagger back to her friends as quickly as she could. She tripped over Sera (who was crying at this point) and Varric (who had apparently fallen off his seat laughing), but Dorian caught her in a jovial twirl that almost made her sick.

"Lynne, darling, that was _perfect_! It was more than I could ever have hoped for!"

Cullen sat motionless on his seat until Harding walked up and clapped him on the back. "You and the Inquisitor, huh? Nice."

The poor man took one look around the tavern and bolted out of there.

A new peel of laughter ran through Lynne's companions, but guilt twisted her gut. Poor Cullen.

"Heartbeat like a drum, pounding a rhythm that commands, soothes, tempts. Can't act, but can't drown it out, and he's not sure he wants to anymore. No more pain, only the drum." Cole smiled at the Inquisitor. "I knew you would help."

And then he was gone.

Iron Bull shook his head. "I'll never get used to that. Creepy."

"He means well," Varric said as he helped Sera off the floor.

Iron Bull grunted, but offered no other acknowledgement.

But what did all of that drum talk mean? What exactly was Cullen feeling right now?

Iron Bull rubbed the fur on Cullen's cloak. "Looks like you've got yourself a trophy, Boss."

Holy shit, Lynne forgot about the cloak! She took it off as quickly as her fumbling fingers could manage and laid it on the counter. "What am I going to do? I need to give it back, but there's no way I can visit his quarters after all this!"

Bull shrugged. "Hang it on your mantle?'

"Bull!"

Varric sighed. "Don't worry. I've got this." He grabbed the article of clothing in question, but Dorian's hand shot out to hold him back.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait until tomorrow, Varric? He can't be in a good mood."

The dwarf jerked his arm away. "Let me put it this way: I knew Curly back when he was Knight-Captain of Kirkwall, and I've _never_ seen him like this. I wouldn't miss a chance to see more for a publishing deal in Val Royeaux." As he left, the Inquisitor could have sworn she heard him mutter "which I might get, with all this material."

Bull waited for Varric to leave before bellowing "Looks like we have something else to drink to! Another round, Cabot!"

"Bronto shite!" Sera cursed when Iron Bull prevented her escape with a huge, one-armed bear hug.

Lynne and Dorian exchanged a smile. Sera's terror almost made the second round worth it.

Almost.

* * *

And there's our trade. =)

I still want to post a little epilogue, but the main plot of this story is over.

Please let me know what you thought! Every time I get a review, I "squee" a little. When I "squee," the people around me think I'm crazy.

Make me look crazy; leave a review!


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